


Tomes and Tarts

by darkle_darkle



Category: Final Fantasy, Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Cat Ears, Everyone Is Gay, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Hair, Hair Kink, Lalafell (Final Fantasy XIV), No Lesbians Die, Romantic Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Useless Lesbians
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:14:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27107053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkle_darkle/pseuds/darkle_darkle
Summary: While the Warrior of Darkness and the Scions continue to adventure in Norvrandt, Krile assumes the responsibility of overseeing their flesh and bone bodies back in Eorzia -- at the expense of her own health. With no one else but Tataru around to help, perhaps two lalafell who couldn't be more different will find some common ground.
Relationships: Krile Mayer Baldesion/Tataru Taru
Comments: 10
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter 1

The days went by like water. 

No. Worse.

It was like staying within the eye of an unmoving storm. Never coming. Never going. 

Chaos circling right outside your door. And yet, the home in which you reside remains ever silent. Ever still.

Books and scrolls lay strewn about the room. Consequences of one Sharlayan Mage’s attempts at maintaining the aether -- the very lifeforce -- of several comatose bodies from dissipating. 

In beds spread across the dark tavern room that had been fashioned into an impromptu hospice, they remained at rest. In near-breathless stillness. Soulless. 

No. Not soulless. Thin. Stretched. Taut across time and space due to the machinations of an entity that sought succor from a world beyond their own. 

Whatever the case -- wherever they may be -- they were comrades and friends, one and all.

Krile had long since learned to appreciate her solitude. Her many days studying at the academy had instilled in her an almost unshakable sense of personal responsibility and personal accountability, both in good measure. She never felt alone with a good book in her hand to keep her company.

But not in this room. No matter how many scrolls and pages she peered through and perused, she always felt tragically -- sadly -- alone. The nigh lifeless bodies that kept her constant company might as well have been miles away. Whatever, if anything, remained within them, she could not reach, much less grasp.

It did not take long for sleep to cease to be a nightly ritual. It would instead become a necessary function that would take her at a moment’s respite. What may have once been peaceful slumber had transformed into a starved and desperate animal; waiting, eager to jump at her at the first sign of weakness. A beast Krile dodgedly beat back with every fiber of her being; for as long as she could, at least. 

For sleep would not be denied, and always won out eventually. And tonight was no different. Despite her best efforts, Krile once again found herself face-first in her work, exhausted and out cold.

This had become a common enough occurrence that even the easily excitable and oft-nervous resident receptionist of The Rising Stones had long since become unflappable at the sight of her fellow Scion’s ritual of self-negligence. Tataru had also become quite accustomed to the futility of trying to talk Krile out of doing anything she has already set her mind to.

It was not all bad however. The cat-hooded lalafell would sleep in whatever place her body found itself for upwards of eight or even ten hours at a time. Tataru suspected Krile’s days in the academy might have something to do with that particular talent. Nonetheless, any actual sleep to be had helped ease both their troubled minds, in their own ways. Not to mention that the lavender-haired receptionist was never far with tea and biscuits for the inevitable grumpy groaning of the academy mage.

And sometimes -- like tonight -- Tataru would be fortunate enough to get a glimpse of Krile’s beautiful curls. Much longer than anyone would have guessed from the hood that the small healer would always wear. You would only be able to tell if Krile had fallen asleep at just the right angle for her hair to topple out.

“I bet it’s soft,” Tataru sighed quietly to herself, not quite aware that she was leaning in ever closer with one outstretched hand. Krile stirred and let out a low groan, causing the receptionist to jump back before she had a chance to catch herself.

The small-ish scholar rubbed her eyes, before lazily taking in her surroundings. As if by pure instinct, she pulled the hood over her eyes and went back to her books. It appeared that she had not even noticed Tataru nearby until -- not so much as looking up -- she spoke, “Have you naught better to do than hover over me while I work?”

“I- I was going to ask if you needed anything,” the receptionist stammered, feeling the heat of embarrassment from nearly being caught; and praying to The Twelve that Krile was still groggy enough to suspect anything was amiss.

Krile pinched the bridge between her eyes -- whether in frustration, or in an effort to focus better, Tataru could not tell -- and sighed. 

“I apologize, that was very rude of me,” Krile offered, regretting her initial choice of words. “I would very much appreciate some-”

“I have just the thing!”

Tataru was already out the door and gone before Krile could finish their thought. The bookish lalafell could only guess as to what Tataru might have already prepared and in waiting. The young receptionist had yet to disappoint, so Krile saw no reason to waste energy pondering what she would know soon enough.

She became quickly absorbed in a scroll regarding the theoretical nature of aether transference into crystals and almost did not hear the shuffle of books to make room for the plate that would be placed right next to her.

“I think I’ve gotten quite good at making these,” Tataru said, a hint of pride in her voice. “The tea is clearly the more palatable of the two, no doubt. But you need the strength.”

Without so much as a look, Krile recognized the unmistakable scent of Archon Loaf. A despicable-tasting concoction of pulverized fish and vegetable dough with a taste that defied description, yet possessed of a nutritional value that could not be denied. 

“I am ever in your debt,” Krile could not help but smile. The ghastly bread was always a warm reminder of her days of the academy. And Tataru had indeed become quite adept at baking them just right. Awful taste and all. One could dare say it had become something of a comfort food. If there was such a thing as comfort food with no discernable flavor. 

Turning her attention back to the scroll, Krile absent-mindedly grabbed a slice of Archon Loaf, taking a few nibbles, before placing it down and reaching for the tea. In some ways it was as if she’d never left the academy. Perhaps in her own mind, she never has.

So caught up in her work Krile was, she failed to notice Tataru beaming at the shining compliment that was the act of consuming something as unpalatable as Archon Loaf.

It wasn’t until a moment later that the small scholar noticed the receptionist still standing eagerly nearby. Not wanting to seem harsh as before, but also craving some solitude during her continued research, Krile said, “You need not worry, Tataru. I assure you I will not let any of this go to waste.”

In her defense, the pink-shirted receptionist hadn’t even realized that she’d just been staring at Krile all this time. Thankfully the white mage had apparently failed to notice as well. Tataru was nonetheless suddenly very self-conscious about her somewhat improper gawking. 

“I- Uh, was just thinking,” Tataru muttered, attempting to conjure up an excuse to remain nearby, even if just a little longer, “I have trained a bit as an Arcanist. Perhaps I could be of some help?” 

Krile began to choke on some of the loaf she was chewing at the time. Wincing, she pounded her chest, fully swallowing the heavy foodstuff that had lodged itself in her throat. Krile raised one hand toward a clearly panicked Tataru, hoping to assuage the receptionist before they got too frantic.

The scholarly lalafell took a few breaths before spinning her chair towards Tataru and, through slightly damp eyes and an awkward smile said, “Let’s... not. You help me plenty enough as it is.” 

“And frankly, if you’ll forgive me,” Krile added, “that Carbuncle of yours is a menace,” before turning her attention back to her work with a twirl of her chair.

Tataru would have agreed, had she not become distracted, staring at Krile’s lovely locks once more. The coughing fit had caused her hood to yet again fall back, chestnut colored hair cascading onto her shoulders.

Ever observant, Krile commented, “Ah, yes, it’s quite longer than most people would think.” 

“Why do you always hide it,” the receptionist asked, wasting no time at taking the opportunity to ask the question that had been burning in her mind for such a long time. “It’s so pretty,” she confessed.

Krile thought for a second and, with a slight shrug, responded, “It doesn’t quite serve any real purpose, does it?”

Having been given such a blunt and definitive answer, Tataru struggled to think of anything else to ask or say. Anything to spur on further conversation. To justify her remaining here with Krile. For as long as they’d been working together, they never quite spent as much time just *talking* as the lavender-haired lalafell would have liked. She felt herself grow increasingly desperate to say something. Anything.

“Can I touch it?”

Tataru cupped her mouth with both hands in shock at what she had just blurted out. Her face red as a radish. This was perhaps the least modest and refined thing to ask someone as cultured, proper, and well-regarded among mages as Krile.

And yet no scorn or disdain could be sensed from the white mage, who merely tilted her head slightly. A look of mixed confusion and inquisitiveness on their face. No one had ever quite made such a request, and thus they had no immediate answer to give. Nevertheless, her analytical brain could not help but begin to connect the dots of what had perhaps been transpiring between the two of them -- unawares and oblivious as she herself may have been to it all up until this very moment.

“I suppose you can.”

Regardless of whatever she might have suspected could be going on, Krile saw little reason to object. Once again spinning her chair around -- and turning her full attention to Tataru -- she shook her hair out allowing it to curl around her neck and down her chest.

Tataru stood wide-eyed. She was as much stunned that her sudden outburst worked as she was charmed by how well the scholar’s curly hair framed her fair face.

“I don’t really have all day.” 

Krile’s voice and wry smile snapped Tataru back to attention. A slight nod of acknowledgement was as much as the receptionist could muster before she could work up the courage to lean closer.

Sensing Tataru’s apprehension -- and perhaps getting a bit impatient -- Krile took her fellow Scion’s hand and drew it to the side of her head, placing it firmly within her hair. Tataru immediately -- almost instinctively -- tangled her fingers amongst the chestnut curls. “It’s so soft,” she said, confirming her previous suspicions.

The scent of Krile’s hair also took her by surprise. It smelled faintly of sweet herbs -- from work perhaps, she wondered. Cheeks flushed red from excitement, Tataru barely heard the next thing Krile would say. A look of slight confusion on her face, Tataru apologized, “W-What?”

“I said, would you care to let your hair down,” Krile gently repeated herself. “Seems fair, wouldn’t you agree?”

It was at this point that Tataru would realize just how close their faces were to one another. Had Krile sat up higher from her chair? Or was this Tataru’s own doing?

“Well?”

Tatatu shook her head briefly before undoing her bun and allowing her long lavender hair to cascade forward, “O- Of course!” 

Krile wasted no time running her fingers through the long straight locks of hair. Though it was not long before her hands found themselves resting on the nape of Tataru’s neck, sending shivers down her spine.

It did not take much coaxing from Krile to urge Tataru even closer at this point. Their fingers exploring one another’s hair, necks and shoulders, Krile leaned towards one ear and whispered, “Would you like to kiss me?”

Tataru shot straight up, flailing backwards. Landing on her bum on the floor with a loud thump. She was covering her face with both hands out of sheer embarrassment. Her usually well-kept hair draping her like a lavender ghost.

“Too much?”

“N- No! It’s-” Tataru stood up, pulling her hair back to reveal a flustered face, trying to put words together.

“It’s quite alright,” Krile said in a calm, almost matronly tone, pulling her hair back, “I apologize if I misread your intentions.”

“I DO! I really do,” Tataru blurted out, “It’s just that-”

Krile tilted her head, a curious expression on her face, “What?”

Tataru, unable to formulate the words, simply gestured at the sleeping bodies of their beloved friends and comrades, still in a state of torpor, “That!”

“Oh!”

Krile had all but forgotten where they were. Taking one good look around the room was all it took for her to suddenly make sense of what Tataru was trying to say. The scholarly lalafell nodded in understanding and said, “Yes, that wouldn’t be very proper, now would it?”

“I suppose things won’t fall apart if I am gone for just a little bit,” she mused almost absent-mindedly, before turning back to Tataru and asking, “Your quarters or mine?”


	2. Chapter 2

Tataru could feel the warmth of the noon-day sun upon her face. 

The light crept in through the curtains of the lalafell’s quarters, slowly rousing her from her peaceful slumber. Almost as if the sun itself had decided to shine just for her today.

And what a lovely day it would be, Tataru thought to herself. Waking in bed after a night of intimacy -- and, she hoped, something more -- she could scarcely hide her almost child-like glee. 

For but a moment she lay there, still as a tree, simply to feel the warm breath rhythmically brush across the back of her neck. A sensation that tickled behind her ears in all the right ways. A not-so-subtle reminder of the night before.

Tataru could hardly imagine her feelings not only acknowledged, but reciprocated in such earnest and enthusiastic fashion.

It was but a saucy lick on the cheek that finally stirred the lavender-haired lalafell. Eager to begin the day with a smile (and maybe even a good morning kiss) she would turn to find-

Carbuncle...

Sitting. Sniffing. Staring with an ever-dull blank expression.

With a glare that could slay primals, Tataru shooed the chaotic little egi from her presence. How or why it had come to be here was the furthest thing from her mind. The multi-tailed summon had never cared to listen to her before, or be of much use to anyone -- lest it was making her look the fool. So this sort of thing was very much on brand for Carbuncle by now.

Finding herself alone, Tataru could not help but question herself. Surely she had not imagined things? Or had some sort of waking dream? While a hint of doubt nagged in the back of her head, the lalafell shook it off as little more than nonsense. She knew what had transpired the night before.

Nonetheless, as much as Tataru would have enjoyed spending the morning with Krile, the scholarly lalafell probably had more pressing matters to attend to. The young receptionist no doubt had responsibilities to contend with herself. Management of the Scion’s day to day finances and The Rising Stones establishment were a never-ending affair, after all.

Flinging away the sheets she had clung to the prior evening, Tataru knotted her long lavender hair in a makeshift bun, and set about picking up her smallclothes so that she could get dressed and begin her day. 

While putting her clothes back on proved fairly simple, her long hair remained an uncooperative, tangled mess. Uninterested with waging a war with her own lavender locks, Tataru whipped her hair back into a bun and deftly ducked it into her hat. 

Making the bed would have to wait. Her day had already started late enough. Taking one final glance at her room before stepping out, Tataru let out a melancholy sigh. Hopefully whatever fears she harbored would amount to little more than just her usual anxious nature, and Krile was not regretful of the previous night’s events.

Whatever the case may be, Tataru would have to make haste. Her stomach loudly informed her that she had yet to eat anything at all today. A more immediate need than whatever bookkeeping and potentially clandestine operations required her attention.

It was close to lunch time after all. She thought perhaps it would be a good idea to bring Krile something as well, as she would no doubt be restlessly tending to the Scions.

There was still some of that despicable Archon Loaf left over from the previous batch. And Krile would no doubt have need of it’s sustenance. Nonetheless, Tataru opted to gather a few sweet tarts that a patron had delivered in gratitude for the Warrior Of Light’s assistance in some adventure or other. Something to cleanse the palette from the taste of pulverized baked fish bread.

Gathering her things, Tataru set about brewing some tea to match with the bread and pastries. After finalizing a spread she was content with, Tataru made her way to the infirmary where the Scions were being kept. 

Tataru crept in slowly through the door. She found -- to no one’s surprise -- Krile hard at work at her desk, once again poring over books and scrolls that she had neglected the previous night, absorbed in thought. So much so that she barely noticed the young receptionist creep up with a small tray of tea and edibles.

Tataru opened her mouth to call the scholar's attention, but the light clattering of teacups and dishes caught Krile’s attention before anything could be said.

“Oh,” Krile glanced over, eyes wide. She appeared genuinely surprised to see Tataru. As if she had not expected them to meet at all this day.

“Tataru! What-” Krile stammered before composing herself, “How can I help you?” Her expression was flat and her tone monotone and stiff. 

Tataru simply stood there, lifeless; and now absolutely convinced that something was wrong. That Krile might, in fact, have regretted everything from the night before. Even then, Tataru could not help but notice Krile’s lovely brown hair framing her face. She still wanted that good morning kiss.

Not sure what else to do, the receptionist did her best effort to push her lustful thoughts aside in order to remain as professional and impartial as possible, announcing, “I-I brought you tea and bread.” 

Krile stared blankly, as if confused. Her face contorted as if Tataru had spoken to her in some ancient alien language incomprehensible to lalafellian ears.

Tataru added, “To keep your strength up.”

“Ah,” Krile nodded, as if only now noticing the tray in the receptionist’s arms. If Tataru didn’t know any better she could swear Krile had betrayed the ever so slightest hint of disappointment. With a stilted smile and a slight bow from her head, Krile said, “I am ever in your debt. Thank you.”

Tataru unceremoniously placed the tray on the desk nearby, too afraid to go near Krile. Tataru thought that perhaps this may have been a mistake. And that the lalafellian mage would have preferred to have been left alone in the first place. 

By now an uncomfortable silence had fallen over the room. The few feet between them felt more and more like an ever-growing gulf that would swallow them both up. And Tataru’s fantasies of any kind of romantic relationship along with them.

“Well,” Krile spoke up, clearing her throat to cut through the stillness in the room, “I’m sure you have important business to attend to. As do I.” With that, the white mage stoically turned her attention back to her work. Almost as if hoping she could escape the discomfort by hiding her nose between the pages.

Tataru curtsied politely, “O-Of course,” before leaving the infirmary in as small and quiet a fashion as she could muster.

Making her way back to the main hall of The Rising Stones, Tataru could not help but feel like an utter and complete fool. 

It was so obvious now. There was no way mage of such repute would ever *seriously* take notice of a simple receptionist-slash-failed-arcanist-slash-sometimes-seamstress such as herself. For all Tataru knew, she could very well be nothing more than the latest in a long list of carnal conquests of a prodigious Sharlayan Scholar’s career.

Alas, there was no time to sulk about unrequited love. If Krile had been right about one thing, it was that they both had very important work to do. Even as the Scions remained bound across time and space, their work in The Source remained ever apace. Impossible to ignore was how the absence of one Alphinaud Leveilleur had markedly improved their ever-tenuous financials; practically overnight.

Having wasted enough time and energy on personal affairs, Tataru found an unoccupied table near the entrance of The Rising Stones to spread all of her work, sat down, and proceeded to go through as much of it as quickly as she could. 

The rest of her work day would proceed uneventfully. There was little to no news from Doma or Ala Mhigo as of late. And the only person who had yet to report on any findings for a good while was-

“Estinien!”

The plucky lalafell could recognize that tall broody dragoon from a mile away. His gruff demeanor ever hanging over him like a dank cloud of cynicism and a deep want of solitude. One wouldn’t be blamed for suspecting that he perhaps enjoyed his long excursions into enemy territory a bit too much. They were, after all, too perfect of an excuse to ignore anyone and everyone for an extended period of time. 

And yet, there he was, in the flesh, at The Rising Stones. 

Not one to mince words or waste time with overt pleasantries, the wyrmslayer marched right up to Tataru, and with a stoic nod in acknowledgement spoke, “I come with news from the Garlean front.”

Normally Estinien’s brusque personality and lack of manners would get on Tataru’s nerves, but today she had neither the energy nor the inclination to make an issue of it. She simply nodded in acknowledgment and said, “What of it?”

Estinien cocked one brow, slightly taken aback. For what it was worth, he knew the ever-eager lalafell that had roped him into spying on the Garleans well enough to know how loath she was to disregard hospitality. Even someone as thick-headed as he could tell that something was most certainly off. Why, she hadn’t even bothered to offer him tea -- that he always declined the offer had never deterred her before.

Nevertheless, the silver-haired elezen pushed forward with his report and informed Tataru that, “There is nothing to report.”

Estinien elaborated, “Things remain unchanged since last we spoke.”

Now it was Tataru who was giving him a look. The question of why the wyrmslayer was here at The Rising Stones was plain as day on her face. Nor did it need to be spoken out loud for Estinien to answer.

“There is naught for me to do at the moment,” the dragoon continued, “I would not squander my talents waiting about like some lovelorn maiden. My efforts would be better spent elsewhere for now.” Arms crossed, Estinien declared, “I’m not here to beg permission. I’m merely here to inform you of my decision. Consider it a courtesy.”

Tataru could barely muster the energy to care at the moment, much less argue about it. With a somewhat exasperated sigh, a slight wave of her hand, and no longer making the effort of looking back up at the dragoon, she replied, “Do as you will,” and went back to her bookkeeping.

Estinien was unsure what to make of this turn of events. He had obviously gotten what he wanted. And even now, as easily as he could walk away from all of this, the thought of being dismissed in as brusquely a fashion as he himself would do to others incensed him. 

He turned away, ready to be done with this place. But the thought of he, a mighty wyrmslayer, being shooed away like some unruly child by a three foot tall housemaid was unconscionable. Especially not after all the grief she and Krile put him through, roping him into the Scion’s affairs.

The dragoon spun back around, ready to trade words, but a little voice in the back of his head cut him off and asked, “What would Alphinaud do?”

Truly, the young elezen’s talents as a diplomat had proven their worth time and again. Even to one as stubborn and single-minded as Estinien. But Alphinaud was not here. And Estinien would have to make due without.

Swallowing his pride, the silver-haired dragoon simply barked, “What is going on here?”

Tataru nearly leapt out of her skin, having expected the dragoon to be halfway across Eorzia by now. Looking back up at the dragoon, she asked nervously, “W-Whatever do you mean?”

Estinien regarded the lalafell with some suspicion, but pressed further nonetheless, “Normally by now you would have attempted to doggedly coerce me into some other conspiracy or somesuch,” he stated plainly. 

“Your Scion companions have yet to wake. Which means you are still short on support. And yet, you make no effort to keep me here. So, again, I ask you, what is going on?”

“There is nothing to tell,” Tataru grumbled. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have much work to do.” Already flustered from the line of questioning and frustrated with the events earlier this day, she muttered under her breath, “And I most certainly don’t need advice from the likes of you!”

Hearing this, Estinien -- never one to back away from a challenge -- slammed his lance onto the table; thereby obstructing Tataru from her work spread. He leaned in with a look that could slay dragons, and said, “Try me.”

Not one to back down easily herself, Tataru stood up on her chair, waved one admonishing finger at the dragoon, and said, “If you MUST know, I am in the middle of being spurned by the object of my affections.” Stepping onto the table, the lalafell jabbed one finger at the dragoon’s chest plate, adding, “And I would rather do so ALONE than putting up with your dark cloud hovering near me. I have enough of my own to contend with at this time.”

Estinien wanted to be mad still, to hold onto his indignation. They could not, however, help but feel bad for the lalafell. 

Choosing to respect the lalafell’s wishes for privacy -- and with nary a word -- the dragoon grabbed his belongings, stood back up, and said, “It is unfortunate when we allow ourselves to become vulnerable, only to be hurt by the bitter barbs of rejection. If they have been cruel to you, then they are not worthy or deserving of your efforts.”

Not wanting to be misunderstood, Tataru clarified, “N-No! They haven’t been cruel at all!” Clearly Estinien had gotten the wrong impression. She still thought the world of Krile after all.

The dragoon cocked a curious eyebrow, “Has this person not made their intentions clear to you?”

“I… I suppose not,” Tataru sheepishly admitted. “I just-”

“If you would insist on being so *utterly* miserable and despondent,” Estinien brusquely interjected, hoping to cut to the heart of the issue, “the least you could do is ascertain whether or not the reason for your misery is real or imagined!”

Tataru had no immediate answer to that. The dragoon had her dead to rights. She had feared the worst, and allowed it to poison her perception of things. And even if her instincts turned out to be correct, then at least she should know for certain.

Estinien had already made his way to the exit before she could thank the dragoon for his -- admittedly straightforward -- insight. He did nonetheless stop briefly to say, “If you’ve further need of me, you know how to reach me.”

Tataru gasped, as if finally coming to her senses, and replied, “Not even a cup of tea before you go?”

A wry smile crept upon Estinien’s face, despite himself. Turning to face the lalafell Scion one last time, he said, “Another time, perhaps.”


	3. Chapter 3

The evening felt damper and darker than usual. 

The weather, however, had not changed in any dramatic fashion. Nor had the lighting been altered in any significant way.

It only FELT like it.

The lack of success for the scholar’s efforts had done little to brighten her somber mood.

Things had appeared to have been moving apace. For all intents and purposes, Krile had -- to the best of her knowledge -- done everything right. There was a spark, and some good momentum going. But then… nothing.

Everything just ground to a halt. And the erudite lalafell could scarcely understand why, no matter how she chose to approach the situation.

Had she failed to anticipate the consequences of their experimentation? Or was there some more dire underlying complexity that had somehow escaped her notice?

Whatever the case -- and loath as she was to admit -- her repeated fretting and overthinking about her more personal affairs had no doubt impacted her productivity when it came to their research on aether and the nature of souls.

This was no time to behave like some wounded pup, Krile thought to herself. People were counting on her expertise and experience to produce results. She could ill afford the luxury of expending her energy bemoaning what could have been, but might never be.

Energy waning, Krile took note of the nearby tray of Archon Loaf, sweets, and tea -- a drink that was no doubt bitter and cold by now, more was the pity. The oh so delightful Sharlayan bread was inarguably the more suitable and reinvigorating dish to consume out of the three by a good margin. Which was just as well. The taste had long since ceased to offend Krile’s palate.

Taking a small respite from her work -- and apparent moping -- Krile shuffled over towards the tray of foodstuffs and snatched up a single slice of Archon Loaf to carry back with her to the desk.

As the white mage wandered back to her place of work, she could not help but overhear voices coming from the main hall. Had she not been positive Estinien was well within Garlean enemy lines, she could almost swear to have heard the dragoon grumbling about something or other.

Regardless of who or what might lie beyond those doors, Krile decided it would be in her best interests to ignore for the time being -- and redouble her efforts towards the research that had sat unmolested for the better part of this day.

Doing her best to pay no heed to the going ons outside of the infirmary, Krile took a bite of the pungent loaf and sat back at her desk, flanked by books on either side. Her hopes of sudden renewed energy felt a bit unrealistic, determined to press on as she may be.

The stack of books on her desk offered little comfort. Well organized and free of clutter, they were a marked contrast to the methods employed by Tataru -- and her more chaotic, free-spirited nature. 

In the past the small scholar had come to relish the stillness and silence of her studies. But today, in this moment, it felt lonely.

Krile grabbed a book on the theoretical nature of time and space traversal. She stuck her nose in it, determined to focus. The erudite lalafell read several excerpts from the pages, and yet, much to her chagrin, none of it was retained. Reading it over once more did little to help. 

The book thumped back onto the desk, as Krile sighed in frustration -- and contempt -- for her own inability to stay on point.

Perhaps today would be another day of little to no progress, Krile thought to herself. It would not be the first. In fact, most days would prove rather fruitless beyond the continued maintenance and observation of their comatose comrades and their waning life essence.

Just as the diminutive academic was about to give up for the evening, a flash of insight struck. As if all the words she had been trying to absorb had suddenly coalesced into thought. 

Placing her archon loaf aside, Krile reached for her journal and began to jot her thoughts down with quick and purposeful strokes by inkwell onto parchment -- reinvigorated by her perspicacity and potential new hypothesis. 

Pausing briefly to muse about a specific turn of phrase and how to better put her thoughts onto paper, Krile would become distracted at the sudden clacking of doors opening and closing.

The studious lalafell’s mind, a second ago brewing with ideas, suddenly went blank.

It was Tataru. 

Unable to grasp at the lingering thoughts that had once again eluded her, Krile let out a frustrated groan; fingers running through her chestnut hair, as if she were attempting to somehow dig the thoughts out with her bare hands.

Tataru appeared startled. Clearly words sat on the small receptionist’s tongue, waiting to be spoken. But she had hesitated on account of Krile’s exasperated reaction upon entry.

Letting out a deep and heavy sigh, Krile pulled her hood back, and made an effort to usher a polite smile. 

Failing that, she offered an awkward grin.

“Can I help-”

“Was the tea not to your liking?” 

Tataru blurted her inquiry impatiently. She had taken notice of the untouched tea. An observation she would utilize to distract from her initial plan to confront Krile about their feelings towards one another. It was clear as day that Krile was not happy to see her, and the receptionist’s continued presence would no doubt continue to test the scholar’s patience.

“Or the sweets…” Tataru stammered, making an effort to remain confident and composed. The least she could do was perform her job, she thought to herself. “You’ve touched aught but that dreadful loaf.”

Krile suddenly felt very self-conscious about the fact that Tataru had gone through the trouble to prepare a nice tray for her, and yet, it remained ignored for most of the afternoon and evening. Left to rot.

“Ah, you see-” 

The scholar, for all her wit and wisdom, struggled to find a believable excuse. 

“Did I do something wrong?” 

Tataru interrupted, again. The context of the question left to linger, as if to allow the next person who spoke to define its meaning.

Krile, ever perceptive, saw the question for what it was. Choosing to take the opening for what it was, she pressed on, stating plainly, “I could very well ask the same.” 

Eyes locked directly at Tataru, Krile frowned slightly and asked, “Have I offended you somehow?”

Tataru eyes, however, were drawn to Krile’s beautiful curls; once again framing her soft face. A notable disparity from the young receptionist’s own lavender locks; still tangled and held in place beneath her hat since the day began.

Shaking her head, and slightly taken aback, Tataru opened her mouth and stuttered, “N-No! Not at all!” 

Confused, and somewhat miffed at having her -- admittedly vague -- attempt to steer the conversation suddenly snatched away by Krile, Tataru countered, “And you? Why so cold?”

The white mage cocked a curious eyebrow, unsure how to respond. Not one to ever mince words, Krile spoke bluntly, “After the events of this morning, I thought it prudent to give you a wide berth.”

Now it was Tataru’s turn to wrinkle her nose, perplexed as to what Krile might have been referring to.

“This morning?” Tataru had finally worked up the courage to approach the desk. “You were well and gone by the time I awoke.”

Krile cocked her head suspiciously. Tataru was many things. Mercurial, overly-ambitious, and perhaps even fickle at times. But she was no liar. 

Wanting to get to the bottom of things, Krile swung around on her chair to face Tataru and said, “Do you... not recall kicking me out of the bed and onto the floor in the early hours of the morning?”

The receptionist was aghast, “I’d never!”

“Gave me a bruise, you did.” Krile grasped the sleeve of her robe, as if to roll it up.

“No! No!” Tataru waved her arms frantically. “You don’t need to show me!”

Krile shrugged, choosing it best to leave well enough alone. “Needless to say, I did not stay for very long thereafter,” she elaborated.

“What do YOU remember?”

Krile’s pointed question took Tataru a bit off-guard. The day had been a bit of a blur. In spite of waking up so late in the afternoon, the lavender-haired receptionist hadn’t really stopped to give it much thought.

“I couldn’t have done it,” Tataru surmised. “Or at least, not intentionally. I did not even wake until past half-day.”

Tilting her head as if trying to shake some recollection out of the shelves of her brain, the receptionist added, “As I said before, you had long since been gone when I finally awoke.”

“All I remember was feeling the noon-day sun and-” A sudden bolt of realization struck Tataru, as her face contorted into barely contained indignation.

“CARBUNCLE!”

“What?” Krile was now properly lost. “Carbuncle?”

“Yes! MY Carbuncle!” Tataru barked, “It’s the only explanation!” 

The young receptionist had begun pacing back and forth, pointing her arms aggressively at no one in particular, “I’m gonna kill them,” she threatened, “I don’t know how, but I WILL!” 

Krile was making her best effort not to laugh at Tataru now strangling what could only be an imaginary Carbuncle neck in mid-air.

“So, what you are saying is-” Krile grinned impishly as she paused momentarily to savor the richness of what she was about to say, “That your Carbuncle was JEALOUS?”

Tataru’s face was firmly in both palms by now. Once again her insufferable egi had managed to cause her nothing but grief.

Her grief would be short-lived, however. As the obvious soon began to dawn on both of them.

“So you’re not-”

“I never imagined I would be so relieved to get kicked by a Carbuncle.”

Krile could scarcely contain her laughter any longer, not only relieved, but immensely amused at the delightful absurdity of this lalafell she had fallen for. For a second the white mage thought she might fall from her chair from laughing so hard.

Pulling herself together to the best of her ability a few moments later, Krile took a deap, satisfying breath and said, “Now, for the sake of avoiding any further confusion...” 

Krile sat up straight and did her best to look as proper and collected as possible after her laughing fit. Hand on her chest she spoke clearly and concisely. 

“I have most certainly taken notice of you, Miss Tataru Taru. And I would very much like to see where that goes. If you should feel the same, that is.”

There it was.

Tataru could barely process her thoughts, or hold her excitement as the words tumbled out of her mouth as if by their own accord.

“Yes! I most certainly do! I have been beside myself all this time wondering if last night had been little more than-”

Krile raised one hand and gave Tataru a look that suggested she was not quite done yet.

“We will no doubt have to discuss the nature of our relationship, as it were. So as to hopefully avoid such misunderstandings in the future,” Krile explained, a warm smile creeping on her face. 

“Not the least of which is the matter of your unruly Carbuncle,” she mused looking askance.

Tataru nodded in agreement, making every effort not to let her excitement get the better of her.

“Now, as delighted as I am to have cleared that up,” Krile interjected, “I have very important work that I must get back to.”

“Yes! Of course!”

The relief of knowing that not only was all well, but that Krile had openly confessed her feelings and intentions towards Tataru, had left the lavender-haired lalafell walking on clouds. Any conversation could wait. And nothing could make her happier than knowing the object of her affections was working tirelessly to help save their friends. As it would be her pride and joy to provide as much Archon Loaf as required; among other things.

Tataru, exuberant, was already halfway back to the door when Krile called out for her once more.

“Before you go-”

Tataru couldn’t help but notice that Krile seemed a bit nervous all of a sudden. While the white mage would make the attempts to be the more composed and mature of the two, she could not deny that the reciprocation and validation of her own feelings had made her quite happy as well.

Finding her courage, the Sharlayan scholar adjusted her posture and firmly stated, “I would very much like a kiss.”

“On the cheek.”

A hot redness flushed across Tataru’s cheeks. While the request was most assuredly welcome, the young receptionist had not expected such forwardness from Krile while they were both technically still at work.

With nary a word, Tataru eagerly skipped back over towards Krile; her face sideways, an expectant cheek awaiting it’s kiss.

The younger lalafell leaned in with slightly puckered lips, and closed eyes.

To her surprise, a hand reached out behind her head, tangled it’s fingers in her lavender hair, and gently led her mouth to meet Krile’s own.


End file.
